Welcome back! Thanksgiving Day dawns, bringing a feast for all the senses. We'll get re-acquainted with Deputy Sean Ludwig. And when dinner is served, we'll meet someone from his past.
This story deals with adult themes, primarily same-gender sexual relations. Such relations have their basis in love and commitment, rather than sex for the sake of sex alone. In some cases they will use protection; at other times they will not. You and I should always use protection because we do not live in the world of fiction.
If you are offended the idea of homosexuality or if you are under the age of consent or if you reside in an area where such things are considered illegal or immoral, then you should seek entertainment elsewhere.
Comments may be directed to the author at thornado5@netscape.net
This story is copyright 2004 by Mike Williams. All rights reserved. Thou shalt not steal.
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A Thousand Rainbows by Mike Williams
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Brian and Bjorn were enjoying their first cup of coffee when the sun rose over Bridgewater on Thanksgiving Day; they loved the sunrise, especially on those days when they could spare the time to enjoy it. It would not be long before the whole house would be filled with activity and the wonderful aromas of the feast to come. Bjorn had just popped the turkey ... a 20-pound bird ... into the oven, and nine of Brian's apple pies were set out on the counter. Three would be delivered to the retirement home, and another three would be delivered to the rescue mission.
Their chairs were turned toward the large sliding glass door that faced south, overlooking their backyard. As the gloom of twilight gave way to the dawn, they held hands in silence, lost in their own thoughts of gratitude and thankfulness on this holiday.
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It was nearly nine o'clock when Will and Sarah emerged from their bedroom. They were greeted by the smells of fresh coffee and oatmeal muffins which Bjorn had baked earlier that morning.
"Good morning, sleepyheads," he greeted them, looking up from his biscuit dough.
"Good morning to you," Sarah chirruped, and she leaned over to give Bjorn a peck on the cheek.
"Morning, Will," Bjorn teased with a smile.
Will was already at the coffee-pot, trying to shake the sleep out of his head. "Nine o'clock already?" He cast a sleepy eye toward the bar where Bjorn was preparing dough for biscuits. "Oh, yeah, good morning, Bjorn. We don't usually sleep so late, even on weekends."
"Well, you're on vacation," Bjorn assured his friend. "Enjoy the extra rest. Brian and I have been up since about six, watching the sunrise and doing a few last-minute preparations for dinner."
"Speaking of which," Sarah asked, "where is your partner in crime?"
"He should be back in a few minutes," Bjorn answered. "He had to deliver some pies to the retirement home and the rescue mission, and then a quick stop at the grocery store for those last-minute things that we always seem to forget."
Will noticed the silence of the house, broken only by the sound of their quiet conversation and the classical music on the stereo. "Where are the boys?"
Bjorn continued kneading. "Well, I guess they were up pretty late last night, playing video games. I seem to recall the smell of fresh popcorn waking me up around one o'clock this morning." He glanced at his watch. "But, if I know our boys, then ..."
"Morning, Bjorn. Breakfast on yet?" Jason was just descending the spiral staircase, and he walked over to the bar to give Bjorn a kiss on the cheek.
Josh was right behind him and let out a wide yawn. "Morning, Bjorn. Morning, everybody. Coffee?"
It was obvious that the boys had not taken much care in dressing, and neither had combed their hair. Bjorn returned the boys' kisses, and they wandered over to the counter where the coffee was waiting. Looking like the walking dead, the twins sat at the breakfast bar with their eyes barely open, much to the amusement of the adults.
Josh opened one eye and looked around the room. "Where's Todd?"
Before anyone else could answer, Sarah replied, "Probably still asleep after your late-night video-game session."
"No," Jason said, staring into his coffee cup and yawning. "He fell asleep in our room about one-thirty. But he was gone when we woke up."
"We checked his bedroom before we came downstairs, and he wasn't there either," Josh said with a yawn.
Sarah looked at her husband with concern. "Will ..."
"Relax, everyone." Bjorn calmed their fears. "Todd was up early; he had some coffee, and then ..."
"Morning, everybody." Todd entered the kitchen from the garage and kissed parents before heading straight for the coffee-pot. He looked at the twins with an amused look on his face. "Morning, you sleepyheads."
Brian was right behind him, carrying a small sack of groceries. He smiled at the crowd gathered in the kitchen. "Good morning, everybody." He rounded the breakfast bar and paused to give Bjorn and each of their boys a kiss before depositing the grocery sack on the counter where Bjorn was working. He noticed the looks of concern on Sarah's and Will's faces. "Something wrong?"
"Well, nothing, I guess," Sarah replied. "It's just ... well, the boys just told us a moment ago how Todd wasn't in his room, and they didn't know where he was."
"It's okay," Brian replied. "Bjorn and I were sitting here having our coffee, starting to plan for the day, and Todd insisted on helping me deliver the pies and then pushing the grocery cart around the store. It was really good to have some company."
"I'm sorry, Mom," Todd apologized. "I know I shouldn't have gone anywhere without telling you first."
Sarah looked with fondness at her son. "I might have known you'd be out doing your good deed for the day." And she leaned in to give him a kiss on the forehead.
He nodded toward the twins with a big smile. "I guess I was going stir-crazy waiting for these two lazybones to get their backsides out of bed."
Will was still too sleepy to give his son a solid scolding. "Well, just remember, son, always tell us where you're going."
"I will, Dad. I promise it won't happen again."
Sarah smiled at Brian, remembering the trip into town from the airport. "Brian didn't murder any more classical music in the car, did he, sweetheart?"
Todd had just taken a sip of his coffee. "No, Mom, he didn't. In fact, we listened to the country station the whole time. Did you know Dylan Cruz has a new CD coming out soon? And he's giving a concert in Eugene this weekend."
Bjorn raised an eyebrow at his partner. "Brian, country music? You?"
Brian put his arm around his lover's shoulders and effected his best Southern accent. "Not to worry, darlin'. Just broadening my horizons. Besides, this Cruz guy is really talented."
Todd was incredulous. "Brian, that Mozart fellow was talented; all those longhairs you listen to were talented. Dylan Cruz is just the best of the best."
Jason and Josh had been trying to follow the conversation. "Who's Dylan Cruz?" Jason asked, looking up from his coffee.
"Uh oh," Will said quietly.
Todd turned to face his brothers, his face not hiding his disbelief. "Who is Dylan Cruz? He's only the hottest thing to hit country music since the guitar was invented. What rock have you boys been living under?"
Josh turned a sleepy eye to his brother. "Y'know, Jason, we really need to get out more."
Jason yawned as he reached across the breakfast bar for a muffin. "You're right as always. But it'll have to wait until after breakfast."
Todd smiled smugly and made a mark in the air with his finger. "Round one to the cowboy in the black hat."
Just then the phone rang; Brian answered the call as he was closest to the phone. "Connor, Larkin, Sterling and Becker," he said, sounding very official. "Just a moment, please." He turned to his partner. "I didn't get the name, but I think he said something about the sheriff's department."
Bjorn was puzzled for only a brief moment as he reached for the phone, then realized Sean was the caller. "Hey, Sean ... just making some biscuits for dinner. You know, there's always some last-minute things before a feast like this ... Sure, we'd love it ... Alright, see ya in a few ... yeah, 2410 West Brunswick ... Great. See ya then."
Leaning back against the breakfast bar, Todd pushed his cowboy hat up and looked innocently at his brothers. "Uh oh, the sheriff is on his way over. You guys are busted now."
There was general chuckling around the kitchen.
Jason looked up from his coffee. "Whatever it is ..."
As usual, Josh finished his sentence, shaking his head. "We didn't do it. We were asleep."
"You two still are asleep." Bjorn turned to his partner. "Actually Sean wanted to know if he could contribute a little something to dinner. Seems his dad's claim to fame is his secret salad dressing recipe. And he's going to whip up a batch for us." He paused to glance at his watch. "That, and the first of the day's football games starts in a few minutes."
Just the mention of that word was enough to light up the boys' eyes. "Football? We're awake now," Jason said.
"We'll save you all a seat," Josh said as he grabbed his coffee cup and another muffin and headed for the family room.
Sarah smiled and gave Todd a nudge. "Go on." Then she patted Will's arm. "You too, mister. Leave the kitchen work for the kitchen people."
"You're telling me to go watch football?" Will said, as he wiped an imaginary tear of happiness from the corner of his eye and choked back a fake sob. "Oh god, I love this woman." He kissed his wife, refilled his coffee, and was gone.
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A black sports car pulled up to the curb in front of the Connor-Larkin home, and Deputy Sean Ludwig paused just a moment before switching off the stereo. He had driven across town listening to Dylan Cruz' newest CD "Pony Days". The song playing at that moment made him remember something he hadn't felt in a long time. He removed the CD from the stereo and gently replaced it in its jewel case. A faint smile crossed his face as he looked at the picture on the front cover, four ponies at play in a corral with a man perched on the fence looking on. Then he remembered where he was and got out of the car carrying a few things he would need to make his father's salad dressing recipe.
Bjorn greeted him at the front door. They exchanged a hug, and they made their way to the kitchen where Brian was preparing some homemade vanilla ice cream and Sarah was combining ingredients for a salad.
"Guys, I'd like you to meet Sean Ludwig." Bjorn introduced him to Brian and Sarah. "He's just moved here from Southern California."
As Sarah shook his hand, she asked, "Whereabouts in Southern California? We're from San Diego."
"Most recently, Lakeside. I'm originally from Sacramento," Sean replied. "But I heard there's better fishing up here."
"That would be Lake Monroe," Brian said as he continued to churn the ice cream maker. "I think you'll find Bridgewater a lot quieter than Southern California. We'll see what we can do to drum up some business for ya."
"Thank you kindly," Sean smiled. "A deputy needs some excitement every now and then. But right now I'm here to make my daddy's secret salad dressing. Can I borrow a small pan, say, about this deep?" He indicated the dimensions.
Brian reached into a cupboard and retrieved a small pan which he handed to the deputy. "I've never heard of a salad dressing that you have to cook."
"Well, it's not that you have to cook it," Sean explained. "My dad's secret ingredient is a certain wine, and we just like to burn off the alcohol. We don't need anyone getting tanked on Thanksgiving."
Sarah snickered. "Sean, remind me to tell you later about my husband's grandmother and her bridge club's annual Thanksgiving celebration." She turned to the others. "If you boys will excuse me for a few minutes, I'm going to go freshen up." And she went back to the bedroom she shared with Will.
Sean looked around the kitchen before setting about his task. "I really like the way this place is laid out. And that spiral staircase is just great."
"Thank you," Bjorn said. "When we built the house, we felt it fit the place more than a conventional staircase. Brian, why don't you give that ice cream a rest and show him the rest of the house? I'll keep watch on the wine and the ice cream."
"With pleasure. C'mon, Sean, you can meet the other inmates of our little asylum. I think they're wrapped up in a football game right about now." And he led the way down the hall.
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Through the dinner the conversation was lively and light, touching on such diverse subjects as the fishing conditions at Lake Monroe, whether or not anchovies should be allowed on pizza. As Brian's apple pie a la mode was served for dessert, the topic turned to everyone's favorite music.
"Well," Will began, "I guess I'll always be partial to the seventies; the music really had a beat you could dance to."
"No way, Will," Sarah said with a smile. "The eighties is where it's at. Big hair, skin tight pants, screaming guitars. That's when music really came of age."
"Dancing is okay," Brian mused, "even fun sometimes. But give me anything jazz. And I really like this trend in smooth jazz. Some of these new artists aren't afraid to experiment with new forms. That's what jazz is all about. How about you, Bjorn?"
"Classic rock all the way," Bjorn said emphatically. "The three-day rock festivals, the superstar bands. Sixties right through the nineties. A lot of those bands are still around today."
A cell phone rang just at that moment. Instinctively Sean reached for the device at his waist. He glanced at the caller ID. "Sean here, be right with you," he said into the mouthpiece. The he turned to his hosts. "It's a private call. Is there somewhere I could take it?"
"Come with me. I'll take you to the den." Bjorn offered the privacy of the same room where he and Brian had befriended two young men just the previous evening.
Sean smiled into the cell phone when he was sure he was alone. "Greg, it's great to hear from you. Where are you? How did you know to find me here?"
A familiar voice came through the line. "Would you believe me if I said I'm just taking the Bridgewater exit off the interstate? I just finished a concert in Portland last night, and I've got a show in Eugene this weekend. So I'm taking a couple days off."
"So how did you find me?"
"Just dumb luck, sweetheart," Greg explained. "I thought you'd be at your Dad's for Thanksgiving, so I called there first, and he gave me your cell number."
"I always said you should have been a detective," Sean said.
"Um, Sean, I know this is a little presumptuous of me," Greg said, "but could I see you? It's been a long time."
"It's been too long, Greg." Sean took a deep breath. "Look, I'm at a dinner party right now, and I have to work tonight. Hold on." He exited the den and returned to the dining room. "Bjorn, could I speak to you for a moment?"
Bjorn rose from his chair and accompanied Sean back to the den, leaving the door open.
Sean spoke in a low voice. "An old friend from college is passing through town; we haven't seen each other in a while."
Without a moment's hesitation Bjorn said, "Give him directions. We'll be happy to fix him up a plate."
"Uh, wow, that's really generous of you, Bjorn. Thank you."
"No need to thank us. Brian and I wouldn't have it any other way," Bjorn assured his guest. "Just don't be on the phone too long. Your pie's getting cold, and your ice cream's getting warm."
He smiled broadly and left Sean to finish the call.
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When Sean returned to the dining room, the conversation was still centered on music. He resumed his seat and thanked his hosts and the other guests for their indulgence.
"Let's see, we got seventies, eighties, jazz, classic rock. Sounds like you all agree to disagree, I guess." Sean was fascinated by the diversity in music taste and, yet, the unity in this family. He turned his attention to the twins who sat on either side of him. "What about you guys?"
Jason thought for a moment. "I guess we like everything, but classical music would have to be our favorite."
Sean raised an eyebrow. "Wait a minute here. You guys are, what, thirteen, maybe fourteen years old. And you're telling me you're into stuff that was written hundreds of years before you were born?"
Josh took up the thought. "Most composers today have no appreciation for a Haydn symphony. Maybe once a year somebody drags Handel up from the basement so their church choir can perform `The Messiah' at Christmastime."
"Composers today," Jason continued, "all they know is a bass line that goes `thump, thump, thump', and the same four chords over and over again, and a few meaningless words."
"But the masters," Josh said, "well, they really understood form and structure, and how to put it all together. And they did it without all the technology we have today. Jason and I are writing our music while we study the things that made their music great."
"And so we will perform two of our own compositions for your enjoyment this afternoon," Jason announced.
There was applause throughout the dining room.
Sean looked Todd in the eye. "What about you? You've been pretty quiet through all of this."
"Country music is where it's at," Todd replied confidently. "No offense to these others, but it's the music that was invented in America."
"Country music," Sean mused. "A man after my own heart. Who's your favorite singer?"
"Gotta be Dylan Cruz," Todd said without hesitation as he got up from the table to bring his dishes to the kitchen.
"Good choice. He's my favorite too," Sean said with a smile. "I've got all six of his CDs."
Todd poked his head back into the dining room. "But he's only released five CDs." Todd paused and thought for a moment. Then the implications of what Sean had said hit him, almost causing him to drop the dishes he was carrying. He looked at the deputy with awe. "But he's got a new CD coming out, and you've got an advance copy."
Sean said smugly. "Actually, I've got an autographed advance copy."
Todd couldn't believe what he was hearing. "No way. What are you ... like, president of the Dylan Cruz Fan Club?"
"No, that's his mom," Sean looked around the room with a big smile. "I'm the vice-president."
"Get out!" Todd was almost to the point of laughing at the discovery of another Dylan Cruz fan.
"Well," Brian began, "we listened to some of his music while we were out running errands this morning. And I really liked what I heard. It was kind of uplifting, not like a lot of the other stuff out there."
His statement was interrupted by the doorbell. Todd was the only one standing. "I'll get that."
And he walked down the short hall to the front door. He opened the door and saw a dark green SUV on the street behind the deputy's sports car. Before him was a tall man dressed in blue jeans and a black vest over a blue dress shirt, the top three buttons of which were open, exposing a portion of the man's firm chest. Todd's eye caught the glint of a gold chain around the man's neck. He wore a black cowboy hat, and his long straw- colored hair was pulled into a ponytail. But Todd was most captivated by the man's bright blue eyes.
"Oh my god. You're Dylan Cruz."
"Howdy." The man offered Todd his hand. "I was told I might find Deputy Sean Ludwig here."
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to be continued in Chapter 24